


My Lady's Respite

by MaevesChild



Series: Borders Yet to Be [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Multi, Polyamory, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:02:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaevesChild/pseuds/MaevesChild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an AU Sequel to "As My Lady Desires" (Female Amell/Nathaniel Howe/Loghain Mac Tir).</p>
<p>Loghain survives the Fade and the Inquisitor banishes the Wardens from Orlais.  Loghain is tasked with leading the survivors to Weisshaupt.  No one has heard from the The Hero of Ferelden since she left Amaranthine and was reunited with Nathaniel Howe.  They were secretly married by Capt Isabela on her ship and then promptly disappeared.   Rumor has it they are searching for a cure for the Blight.  Who knows where that will lead them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Lady's Respite

Weisshaupt.

_Finally._

The fortress loomed from the cliffs, hanging like a bloated spider in a web.  Despite its ominous facade, it felt like an oasis.  The Anderfels were harsh, far harsher than Loghain had expected, and the few Wardens that had survived the trek from Adamant were in nearing collapse.  

They'd weathered sandstorms and hunger and lice; all of them shaved to the skin.  He was sporting a short fur of stubble on his skull, on sun scorched skin stretched too tightly over the bone.  That's all any of them were at this point, haggard skeletal remnants of what once were warriors.

No mages; They were all dead.

Loghain had forgotten how much the presence of a mage made travel less painful.  He remembered when someone he once knew made drenched wood burn.  His heart clenched in his chest.

The massive flight of stairs up the mountain took all of the strength they had left.  He prayed that behind the heavy gate they'd find allies, not shells of men driven mad by Corypheus.  The fifteen odd others were in varying states of exhaustion, many on their knees when the great gate finally creaked open.  Loghain managed to keep his feet, but only with the help of the young man beside him.  

That man was an Orlesian Warden and Loghain had not been as proud to stand beside a man since Maric.  All of them, men and women both, had endured more hardship since leaving Adamant than many experienced in a lifetime.  

"Wardens," a voice said from the shadows behind the gate, a thick Anderfel accent adorning the words.  A man, bearded, burly and well-fed walked to them, hands outstretched.  "Welcome to Weisshaupt, the heart of the Grey Wardens."  A smile split his furry face.  "You all look like shit."

_Thank the Maker._

The next few hours were a blur.  The relief at finding compatriots not enemies tore the breath from his lungs and the last of his will.  They were welcomed with open arms, given water, wine and bread.  Clean clothes were set aside, mages on standby to heal them once they'd had time to rest.  Loghain dropped into a fitful sleep in a cot in open barracks, hardly caring where he was.  The filth and dust of the desert still coated his skin, grimy and fetid and yet he'd never had a deeper or more satisfying sleep in his life.  

Loghain woke just before dawn, surrounded by the sound of snoring.  A light shone through an open door to the barracks, a lone guard leaning haphazardly against the wall.  The man saw him stir and pushed to his feet.

"Warden-Commander Loghain," the man said, though  _man_  was probably generous.  He was young, couldn't have been more than sixteen years old.  He sported a thin excuse for a mustache to try to disguise the childlike bow of his mouth.

_J_ _ust a boy._   Loghain wondered how thin the ranks must have become that they'd started joining children.

"There's water and food in the hall, if you're interested," the boy said, covering a yawn with the back of his hand.  "And there's hot baths in the next room." 

The grit on his skin suddenly felt unbearable at the prospect of its removal.  Loghain put a hand on the young man's arm.

"Thank you."  He hardly recognized his voice, even more gruff and ragged than usual.  "Good lad."

Loghain limped towards the baths, grabbing a carafe of wine from the table as he passed.  His feet felt as if he was walking on broken glass, the muscles in in back cramping.  He ignored both as best he could until be got to the baths and was able to close the door behind him.  With no one to see him, he leaned hard against the wall, resting his head on his forearm and grimacing.  

_I'm too old for this._

With a groan, he pushed himself up and pulled his gambeson off, letting it crumple to the floor.  The thing probably should be burned before it summoned a demon.  He unlaced his pants, looking down at how white and sallow his skin was where the desert sun hadn't reached it, compared to the dark tan on his hands and arms.  His body was emaciated from their travels, every bone and ridge of muscle in stark relief under that pale skin.

Dragging his legs over the edge of the wood tub of the bath was agonizing, but he managed to do it, sinking down into the steaming water.  

Mages had done this, he was sure of it.  Here they hadn't been affected they way the Orlesian Wardens had been.  It gave him some measure of peace to know that they had not all been destroyed; not yet at least and not from outside the order.  After all his years as a Warden, he was certain they'd destroy themselves in time, but he didn't have the strength to even allow himself to think of it now.  Instead, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the rim of the tub letting the hot water wash the grime from his skin and soothe the aches from his muscles.

He drifted for a while and may have fallen asleep.  He roused himself, drank from the wine carafe set beside the tub and closed his eyes again.  The mage warmed water didn't seem to cool and he decided that he'd be content to stay right here in this hot water for the rest of his life.  He knew that after the mages tended to him he'd feel less like a smoldering nub of charcoal and more like a man, but for now, he felt two hundred years old.

Beyond the door, there were voices.  At first just a murmur, background noise like anywhere with enough bodies sharing the same space.  Eventually a voice stood out.  

Female.   _Fereldan._  That was unexpected.

A young man's voice replied to her unintelligibly.

"Listen, I don't care if he's in there fucking Andraste herself," the woman's voice cut clearly through the door.  "If it is really him and he's really alive, I'm going to go in there and kill him."

Goosebumps rose on Loghain's arms.  That was a voice he would never forget, no matter how hard he tried to put it out of his head.  Before he could gather himself further, the heavy wood door whipped open, cracking against the wall behind it.  

"Bride of the Maker."  Her face was blank, as if enough competing emotions cancelled the expression out.

Her.

The Hero of Ferelden. Warden-Commander of Amaranthine.  

Kya Amell.

_His lady,_  once upon a time.

"You bastard," Kya said when he didn't say anything.  "How are you alive?"

He chuckled, trying to ignore the ache in his lungs, only part of which was damage from his trek through the desert.  "It's complicated."  His forced levity fell apart quickly.  He never expected to feel guilty.

When he wrote her from Montsimmard, telling her he was going to his Calling, he honestly thought it was his end.  He supposed he should have learned from that experience enough to recognize what Corypheus was doing sooner, but failure aside, there was no lie in what he told her.  Once he came around again, gossip came from Ferelden along with official word of her success, exactly what he'd expected of course, that she'd taken up with ...

"Blast it Kya," Nathaniel Howe snapped, appearing in the doorway behind her.  "Can you let the man put on some pants before you interrogate him?"

She didn't even crack a smile, shooting him a scorching look over her shoulder.  She made a grumble and pushed her way around him without a look back at Loghain.  Nathaniel watched her go for a moment but he did turn back, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I sometimes wondered if you were still out there, having so selflessly left her for her own good, of course.  And here you are."

Loghain grit his teeth in frustration.  "It wasn't like that."

"I'm sure it wasn't."  He looked unconvinced.  "We have questions when you're finished."

"You and everyone else."

Nathaniel snorted and followed after Kya without dignifying him with a reply.  Loghain felt the intense urge to slide down under the water and stay there, but as always, he dragged himself to his feet to do his duty.  He hastily dried himself;   the linens no softer than sandstone, but somehow he knew it was likely to be less painful than what was to come.

He was willing to weather their wrath.  They earned the right to their questions.  It was one thing to be officially dead for the sake of Anora and her crown, but it was another to not tell the woman he loved that he was still alive.

And he did love her, even now.

And perhaps this had all been a terrible mistake, but he couldn't bring himself to regret the time he spent in Montsimmard with Adrian before the Wardens fell into shambles.  Caring for her didn't diminish how he felt for Kya.  He and Adrian managed to find a sweet taste of happiness he thought he'd outlived. 

Adrian was gone now.  It appeared he'd outlived happiness again.  

More resigned than bitter, he dressed and made his way back into the hall.  It was just past sunrise now, pale yellow light creeping through the tall narrow windows into the hall.  Kya and Nathaniel were at the end of the room; she was perched on the edge of the long table and Nathaniel in front of her, one hand on her knee.  They spoke quietly to each other and didn't see him at first.  He smiled at them faintly.

They had that easy camaraderie with each other that he and Maeve only managed near the end of their marriage, but he remembered it well.  Kya and Nathaniel were partners, even their little movements mirroring one another.  There was a special sort of comfort there that he knew they both deserved.

He hadn't meant to upheave it by walking back into their lives.  If he'd known, he would have tossed Hawke bodily out of the rift and the Inquisitor could be damned.

_Hindsight._

He made his way over to them, Kya looking up first at his approach.  Those familiar stormy blue eyes bore into him.  She always made him feel transparent and now more than ever.

He could see evidence of the time that had passed on her face, the texture of her skin was coarser, the planes of her face enhanced by the faintest creases.  Age made her more beautiful, touching her with delicate fingers.  Nathaniel too looked older, his dark hair threaded with silver, more than Loghain himself and crinkled lines played at the corners of his eyes.  

_From smiling._ Loghain had no regrets.  He'd done right by them in dying, even if he hadn't gotten around to it yet.

"They said you brought all that was left of the Orlesian Wardens after the Inquisition banished you," Kya said, matter-of-fact, her voice as bland as cold barley.

"That's true," he said.  Loghain crossed his arms over his chest, like armor over his rib cage.  He expected disdain.  He expected it to hurt.

Kya shook her her, closing her eyes for a moment and sighing.  "You'd think they'd have learned something from what happened in Ferelden."

"Its not forever, I expect," Loghain said, remembering how the Inquisitor asked them to go with reluctance.  "There are fewer than twenty of us left and yet we were still too susceptible to Corypheus and our own fear.  Until he's dealt with, it's not safe for Wardens or the Inquisition for us to be close to his influence." 

"Twenty?" Nathaniel finally spoke.  "There were hundreds of Wardens in Orlais."

"More than a thousand, before this began."  Loghain's reply was without emphasis.  Such a fact didn't require it.

"Maker's Breath," Kya sighed under her breath.  She was looking intensely at her hands instead of speaking.  Loghain knew that despite his immediate discomfort it was her place to ask what she needed before dismissing him back into her past.  

His mind tried to consider his next move.  Did they have Wardens in Nevarra?  He pushed the idea away.  

One of Kya's hands was on top of Nathaniel's.  She held on tight, refusing to let him move away.  Loghain wasn't sure who's benefit that was for, hers or Nathaniel's or even to show him how they were done with him.  He wished it didn't matter to him.  He had moved on in a fashion, as had she.  

It was better for them all, wasn't it?

Eventually she managed to look up.  Her face was pale.  Her earlier anger seemed to have burned itself out. Loghain caught the slight movement of her hand squeezing Nathaniel's out of the corner of his eye.

"Why didn't you tell me?"  Her question hung in the air like a dark storm cloud.  

"It felt like the right thing to do," he began, hoping that the truth would suffice.  "I did legitimately expect to be dead and by the time I realized I wasn't going to be, official word came from Ferelden of your victory....along with the less official details."

"Of us," Nathaniel added, his voice low and quiet.

"Yes," Loghain nodded at him.  "And since I pushed so hard for that to happen, I could hardly..."

Kya interrupted him.  "Did you forget what happened your last night in Amaranthine?"

"Of course not."  That was a memory he couldn't deny replaying in his mind.  He'd never had an experience like that before or since.

"Then why did you think we wouldn't want you to be alive and to come back to us?" That from Nathaniel, which surprised him.

Loghain knew how Kya felt about him, or at least, how she had at the time.  And no one could have missed how Nathaniel felt about her.  He hadn't imagined there was more to it than that.

"It was a familiar feeling," Loghain admitted.  "This was not the first time I was asked to give up what I loved for the greater good."  He let out a breath.   _Loved. Still loved, despite everything else._  "And the First Warden was very clear that I wasn't to return to Ferelden.  My being alive would only have complicated matters."

Kya looked at him carefully for a moment.  "Does Anora know?"

"No, and she won't," he snapped.  A muscle twitched in his jaw.  "I won't allow it.  She's mourned and moved past my mistakes.  For her sake and Ferelden's it must stay that way."

Kya raised a hand.  "Its not my place to tell her. "  She pursed her lips.  "But you should.  She loves you; you're her father."

"I know," he said, and looked away.  "But I don't need to fail her again."

There was another uncomfortable length of silence.  They were alone in the hall despite the rising sun.  A few Wardens passed through but none lingered.  Loghain wanted nothing more than to find his way back to his cot or a bottle of whiskey.  

_Or the Fade._   

"Loghain."  Kya's soft voice pulled him back.  "I am glad you're alive.  I can't tell you how much I...how much  _we've_  missed you."

Loghain felt a crease appear between his eyebrows.  

"Please tell me you didn't spend the last ten years punishing yourself."

Loghain snorted.  "Some of it, which is likely less than I earned."  He sighed.  "But not all.  I found some measure of peace for awhile.  But as with everything else, I lost it again."

Kya gave him a sad smile.  "Who was she?"

"An Orlesian mage," he said.  "If you can believe it.  Outspoken, completely unexpected and unfortunately killed at the Divine's conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes."  That wound was still raw around the edges.  Loghain was used to loss, but that didn't stop the bleeding.  "Adrian," he said her name reverently.  "You would have liked her."

"If you did, I'm sure I would have," Kya smiled at him again.  This time she offered a free hand towards him, her palm up and fingers outstretched.  This was a moment he'd never dare dreamed of.  She was right there and she was offering him her hand, her touch.   _Her love?_   

Did she have enough for them both?  Was he strong enough to share, as he'd never been able to before -- something that might have saved him a lifetime of heartache?

Loghain swallowed the suspicious lump in his throat and took her hand.  

His fingers laced through hers.  He closed his eyes.  This was a feeling he'd forced himself to forget, this feeling of wholeness, of being somewhere that he was wanted.  There was no war inside him when he touched her.

His eyes burned.

"Oh Maker," Loghain muttered, words spilling out without his hesitation getting in the way.  "I'm so sorry."

Kya was off the table and somehow in his arms before he realized what was happening, one hand still holding Nathaniel's.  Her hair brushed against his face, that heartbreaking scent of Andraste's Grace and lyrium washing over him.  Loghain felt Nathaniel's hand on his shoulder, fingers squeezing.  

They stood together in silence, his heart hammering in his chest.  He didn't know what he'd expected to find here, but this was beyond his wildest dreams.

Loghain was a thousand miles from where he was born, in a foreign desert surrounded by strangers.  Every inch of his body hurt and he had lost more of the people he loved than still lived.  He was a Grey Warden, dying by inches as the world fell apart around him. 

But finally, he was home.


End file.
